Friday, April 25, 2014

juxtaposition

juxtaposition

Curled into a ball I gaze out upon the world from between my knees. Distrust and fear, the world has become my snare. I never expected this to be true.

He was a good man. A religious man. A pastor, my father-in-proxy. Those poor Catholics, embarrassed by scandal. If they would be allowed to marry this could never happen. I went to a Pentecostal church. The leaders are allowed to marry. It won't happen in my church. I am safe in my church. There are good people in my church.

If I hold myself tight like this so I won't explode. The world won't be able to get me. I am unsafe.

He was just wrestling with those boys. He never did anything wrong. I am glad it wasn't me. I wonder where he is now. I am sure his resignation was overblown. Those poor Catholics, that could never happen in my church. The receptionist was right outside. She would have heard something. Those old church building’s made of stone and concrete. It would be hard to hear the cries of a boy. I saw him in his office once, he gave me good advice. He was a good man. Everyone respected him.

He wrestled with me and taught me how to dance. That’s not so bad. Father figures are supposed to teach those things. Those poor Catholics, the priest used religion and a false sense of fatherhood to manipulate the innocent boys. That would never happen in my church. The bible teaches against that. I don't think the Catholics read the bible anymore. If they read the bible, they would know that behavior was wrong and put a stop to it.

If I unfold a little bit to give my body relief, I can grasp onto the couch. I am vulnerable.

It was only a spanking. Fathers are supposed to discipline their children and correct bad behavior. I was smoking cigarettes, chewing tobacco, and hanging out with non-christians. I deserved to be corrected. I shouldn't have kissed that girl. Those poor Catholics, the priests must have been gay who raped those young boys, that is unacceptable. That would never happen in my church. Fathers who have wives and children are definitely not gay. My pastor wasn't gay. He wouldn't be allowed to minister if he was gay. None of the gay men I know would do something like that.

I pull the heavy blanket over my head, hoping the weight will give relief to the twisting muscles in my lower digestive tract.

My world has collapsed. Just like those poor Catholics. I have been brought down to sub humanity. He used his role as a father against me. He moved his receptionist further away from his office. He used religion against me. He covered over his sexuality and I suffered. He did this, not me. He did the same things to me as those poor Catholics.

I peek out from under my safety blanket. To observe the world around me.

He did this. It wasn't my fault. He did this. The world is an inhumane place.